


Here, in my blue chair

by energie_vie



Category: The Old Guard (Comics), The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Bonding, Casual Sex, Drinking, F/M, Friendship, Heartfelt Discussions, No Strings Attached, Pre-Canon, Sad Booker | Sebastien le Livre, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-19 09:55:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29997609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/energie_vie/pseuds/energie_vie
Summary: " 'Sex is always welcome,' she says casually, making him choke on his drink. 'What? I'm not propositioning you. Unless you want me to?' she asks innocently and Booker feels himself blushing to the roots of his hair.'I-, I don't-''Relax, I'm just joking. Though you do seem a little high-strung, so maybe sex isn't such a bad idea.' "---OR: on a cold November evening in 1858 Boston, Andy and Booker keep each other company in more ways than one (i.e. heart-to-heart, whiskey and casual sex).
Relationships: Andy | Andromache of Scythia & Booker | Sebastien le Livre, Andy | Andromache of Scythia/Booker | Sebastien le Livre
Comments: 8
Kudos: 13





	Here, in my blue chair

**Author's Note:**

> I think most of the fandom agrees that Andy and Booker have had casual sex at least once. If I'm not mistaken, I've heard takes that they even gave a relationship a go but realised soon after it wasn't working and went back to being friends.
> 
> I, for one, am not so sure about the latter but I fully agree with the former, so this story is about the first time they have sex. For the record, they're not completely plastered (I believe that happens at a later date). No, they're keeping each other company, talking and drinking whiskey and then sex happens because why not? 🤷🏼♀️😁
> 
> Anyways, enough rambling. Credit for the title, cause I'm still unable to come up with cool ones on my own: Blue Chair by Morcheeba (I think its vibe works perfectly with the story).
> 
> Enjoy!

His favourite place in the house is the blue armchair in front of the fireplace. It's also the warmest but that's hardly the most important aspect. No, he likes it because he used to have a similar one back home in Marseille, except that one was green and a lot smaller. In fact, one of the first things he had discovered upon his arrival in the United States is that everything is bigger. Significantly so.

His blue armchair could easily hold two people. He'd noticed both Nicky and Joe eyeing it longingly when they'd arrived here, ready to claim it as theirs. In the end, their compassion for him and his never-ending shivering had won out. Boston winters tend to be harsh and Booker huddles deeper in the velvety softness, gloomily reminding himself that it's only November and the worst is yet to come.

He's got no company tonight except the flames in the hearth and the two bottles of whiskey that are lined up on the floor within reach of his left hand. Joe and Nicky had gone to bed about an hour ago, both of them frowning slightly at the bottles of Jameson. _Alcohol is a deceptive friend_ , Nicky had said softly before following Joe down the hall to their room. _It's also a very predictable one_ , Booker had murmured to himself while staring blankly ahead.

Andy is out. They rarely ask about her whereabouts and when they do, her answer is always vague. _I'll be around,_ she grins and winks when she's in a good mood. _I promise not to leave the city,_ she huffs and rolls her eyes when she's slightly irritated. Andy is like a pair of dice: you roll them and make do with what you get. She's also intriguing and fascinating and intimidating as hell and not just because she can kill him in the blink of an eye without him even realising what's going on.

'Brooding again, Book?' an inexplicably cheery voice asks, making him flinch.

Speak of the devil. He hadn't heard her come in because Andy can be dead silent when she wants to. He grunts in reply and turns towards her, studying her as she takes off her grey cloak, followed by her hat and her gloves, all the while muttering disgruntledly in a language that probably hasn't been spoken in a very long time. He doesn't need the translation to know that this evening's attire is what's bothering her.

She's wearing a dark green dress that falls off the shoulders and her normally wavy hair that reaches just below her chin has been curled and parted down the middle and so it seems a lot shorter. She looks stunning and yet, strangely unlike herself. Given the choice she would only wear men's clothes, which means tonight she had gone somewhere where she had to fit in.

'Let me guess,' Booker smirks half-heartedly. 'Social call?'

'Yes, an awfully boring one at that and if I have to spend one more minute in this godforsaken dress I'm going to kill myself!'

'Eh, fat load of good _that_ would do you, you'd still wake up in it,' he mutters and he can actually taste his own bitterness.

'Fair enough,' she grimaces. 'I could use a drink myself,' she adds, nodding towards the glass in his hand. 'Will you keep me company?'

Her tone is carefully casual but he knows he must look more miserable than he thinks because Andy doesn't normally hold back. She's painfully, yet refreshingly straightforward and he's come to appreciate her bluntness, so he doesn't really know how to react right now except hum in what he hopes is perceived as assent.

'Let me go change first before I decide to throw this into the fire,' she grumbles and disappears down the hall.

When she returns she's in a short-sleeved nightdress and her hair is in disarray, a sure sign that she had roughly combed her fingers through it to undo the curls.

'So, what's tonight's poison?' she asks, tapping his right arm impatiently.

'Jameson,' he mutters and scoots over to make room.

The armchair creaks in protest under their combined weight and perhaps he should be a gentleman and offer to sit somewhere else but he's more than halfway through the first bottle and he really can't be bothered with chivalry right now. Andy would probably take offence anyway. She doesn't like to be treated differently.

'Oh, the good stuff!' she exclaims, sounding genuinely impressed and holds out an empty glass. She seems to have produced it out of thin air and Booker stares at it for a couple of moments before reaching for the bottle and filling it almost to the brim.

'Good stuff, indeed,' she sighs contentedly after the first sip and then falls quiet.

The silence stretches, punctuated only by the cracking of the fire and Booker refilling the glasses from time to time. It's a soothing silence, though, the kind that makes it feel safe to wander through his own thoughts. For all her forthrightness, Andy has learned to let him roam through his own head without asking to be included. Funnily enough, he usually ends up extending an invitation sooner or later, so it doesn't really come as a surprise when he finds himself talking.

'I would've been dead,' he says slowly, staring vacantly into the fire.

'Sorry?'

'I turned 88 this year,' he explains. 'I would've been dead for a long time. And I know it's beyond absurd to be saying this to _you_ of all people but I feel _very_ tired.'

'What do you mean, _me of all people_?' she emphasises the last four words, nudging his shoulder with hers.

'How old are you, Andy?' he abruptly switches direction.

He's never asked outrightly and he's not sure why. Probably because some part of him is terrified of the answer. Andy doesn't say anything, so he turns towards her and the look in her eyes tells him that he should indeed be afraid.

'Too old,' she replies cryptically.

'Yeah, but how old?'

'Why does it matter?'

'Because dying is peaceful sometimes and I'm hoping my brain will explode if you tell me something unimaginable like, I don't know, that you're older than the pyramids,' Booker chuckles weakly.

'First of all, let me just say that, despite the slur, you're extremely eloquent for someone who seems to have drunk his weight in alcohol,' she says teasingly. 'And second, I'm a lot older than the pyramids.'

'Of course you are,' Booker sighs and smiles sadly, turning once more towards the flames. 'How do you do it?' he asks somewhat vaguely, hoping she'll understand.

'I take one day at a time,' Andy replies very matter-of-factly. 'I try to remember that I can do some good while I'm at it. When that doesn't work, I get drunk,' she shrugs and grins carelessly.

'Like now?' he smirks and Andy just shrugs again. 'Right. Anything else?'

'Sex is always welcome,' she says casually, making him choke on his drink. 'What? I'm not propositioning you. Unless you want me to?' she asks innocently and Booker feels himself blushing to the roots of his hair.

'I-, I don't-'

'Relax, I'm just joking. Though you do seem a little high-strung, so maybe sex isn't such a bad idea. I can introduce you to some lovely ladies who'd be more than happy to keep you company throughout the night,' she ponders, rubbing her chin with her hand. 'Or gentlemen, if you prefer, it's entirely up to you. Oh, I also know a couple who are always willing to bring someone else in their bed, you get the best of both-'

She doesn't get to finish her sentence. He has no idea what on earth possesses him to cut her off by pressing his lips to hers but by the time he registers what's happening it's too late to undo it. It only lasts a couple of seconds but the only thing he can think of while he's pulling back is that he wants more. He doesn't know how to ask for it.

'Changed your mind already?' Andy laughs softly, lifting one hand to drag it lazily through his hair and it's this small gesture that fully cements his resolve.

He takes a deep breath and starts leaning in, eyes never leaving hers, only to freeze when Andy places a hand on his chest to keep him in place.

'Hold on,' she says firmly.

Doubt starts creeping in, like ice cold water trickling through his veins. Booker wonders whether he's grossly misread everything and opens his mouth to say something, _I'm sorry_ or _kill me now_ , whichever comes out but Andy deftly plucks the glass out of his grasp and places it on the floor together with hers. She then gets up and once again taps his left thigh. Booker just blinks in utter confusion, making her roll her eyes.

'Just move to the center,' she sighs impatiently.

Although sorely tempted to, he doesn't ask why, he just does as he's told and his breath hitches when Andy lifts her nightdress and climbs into his lap, straddling his thighs. It's either the alcohol or the blood that has suddenly rushed south or possibly both but he's suddenly struggling to process what's happening and he could swear his hands have started shaking just a little.

'Don't overthink it,' Andy whispers against his mouth and then she's kissing him hotly, all tongue and teeth and hands tangled in his hair.

It's wonderful and a little overwhelming and he has no idea what to do with his hands, so he settles for keeping them on her waist, bunching her nightdress in his fists when she starts grinding down on him. Her mouth moves to his neck and he lets out a small whimper when her teeth sink into his pulse point and then she's kissing and sucking his neck while her hands work on the buttons of his pants.

There's a little fumbling around to push them past his hips and when her hand reaches between them to grab his cock and stroke it firmly, a loud moan erupts from his chest and Booker squeezes his eyes shut and bites down hard on his lower lip, drawing blood.

'Slow-, slow down,' he pants and exhales in relief when she stills and loosens her hold.

His left hand makes its way under her nightdress and he lets out another choked whimper when he discovers she's wearing nothing underneath it. Andy grins naughtily, so he presses two fingers against her clit in retaliation and smirks when the grin is replaced by a throaty moan. He starts rubbing and leans in to kiss her again but her impatience starts showing and soon enough, she bats his hand away, aligns herself and sinks down onto him in a single swift motion.

From then on it's pure and heavenly bliss. She's undulating and twisting her hips and damn it, she was right, he _had_ needed this. His thoughts are all jumbled up and the only thing he can focus on is the way she fluidly moves, arms crossed behind his neck while _his_ hands are leaving bruise after bruise on her thighs. He completely loses track of time and so what feels like centuries later, though it's probably only a few minutes, her moans get louder and her movements become stilted and he feels her clenching hard around him. It sends him hurtling over the edge without any sort of warning and he clings to her, face buried in her neck and arms wrapped tightly around her waist.

There's silence once more as they both struggle to catch their breaths but it's not soothing anymore. It's heavy and unnerving and Booker keeps his eyes closed and wishes time could come to a standstill. Now that the high of his orgasm has subsided, his mind is lining up all sorts of thoughts for examination, one more disquieting than the next.

_What was I thinking?_

_What_ **_was_ ** _this?_

_What happens next?_

_How do we go back to what we were?_

'I can hear you thinking,' Andy murmurs.

Booker pulls back to look at her, chuckling weakly and lets his hands fall limply to the sides.

'I don't know what to say right now,' he mumbles. 'I feel like thanking you, although that's probably a very stupid idea.'

'Damn right it is and don't you dare say it!' she mutters in mild annoyance, narrowing her eyes at him. 'Look, there's nothing to analyse. Did you enjoy yourself?'

Booker sighs, then nods and smiles softly.

'Good. So did I. Let's leave it at that.'

'Wait, I wasn't going to suggest we try-' he starts protesting but Andy quickly cuts him off.

'I know, Book,' she says gently. 'You and I have way too much baggage to function properly, both together _and_ separately. But you're very special to me and I'll always be here for you. Alright?'

And just like that she has managed to make his mind go blissfully quiet.

'Alright.'

'Great. Now, if you don't mind, I can't really feel my thighs anymore,' she says and shifts a little on top of him. 'This is going to be messy.'

'As long as we don't ruin the armchair,' he smirks, earning himself a smack on the shoulder.

'You and your stupid armchair can go fuck yourselves!'

It _is_ messy and slightly bothersome as he waits patiently for Andy to go to the lavatory and return with a towel but at least the armchair has suffered no damage. Booker awkwardly cleans himself and pulls his pants back up and he's honestly expecting Andy to say good night and leave him alone with his thoughts but the woman is always full of surprises. She picks up the glasses from the floor, hands one to him and this time he doesn't wait for her to tap his shoulder, he moves to the left to make her room. Andy plops down next to him with a satisfied sigh.

'Right, where were we?' she grins and he can't help but grin back.

**Author's Note:**

> Most of my other stories are Book of Nile but if you feel like reading more about pre-canon Booker, you can check out [Lost in Yesterday](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29607318).
> 
> Also, you can find me on [Tumblr](https://energievie.tumblr.com/) if you wanna say hi 😬💜


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